


Full Circle (It Always Comes Around)

by mushembra, Tamori



Series: And He Finally Learned What Love and Kindness Meant [10]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: AKA Perkins pisses himself and gets no sympathy, Accidental wetting, Angst, DPD as family, Desperation, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fowler ain't having none of this shit, GAV'S DAD GETS DECKED, Gen, Hatred, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Omorashi, Perkins is a fucking dick, Protective Hank, Protectiveness, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, belt beating, degredation, everyone hates him and i do too, fear wetting, mentions of child abuse, no one is, peekins, poor Gavin is suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-07 06:33:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15902799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushembra/pseuds/mushembra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamori/pseuds/Tamori
Summary: Gavin has one fear, one monster in his life, a monster he believed to be long dead and out of his life, even if the nightmares plagued him every nightUntil it's been discovered that the monster in his closet has been living on the run all of these years, and the FBI was brought in to seek out and bring him in for justice, once and for allIt was supposed to bring closure and safety to the DPD's now beloved detective, but there's one man out there who wants to use what should have been a good thing against him





	1. When a Nightmare Comes Back to Life

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a three part work, and I HATE LEAVING YA'LL ON CLIFFHANGERS BUT  
> It's happening  
> I want to thank Tamori for helping me write this series, which is coming to an end  
> BUT FEAR NOT  
> There is another series already in the works that will pick up where this one leaves off  
> Thank you to everyone who has loved and supported me through this. I've never done a series before, and I was scared to do it, but I'm so happy with how it's come out

The message Gavin had received from Fowler was odd and cryptic, and not something the Captain usually sent. He received it shortly before hitting the sack, and the detective dragged his phone tiredly off of the nightstand with a groan. He didn’t want to deal with this shit right now. He just wanted to pass the fuck out. It’d be a long day and sleep was probably all he could manage to do. But he looked at the incoming message from Fowler anyway, and it simply stated, **You’re needed at the precinct at 0600. Don’t be late.** There was nothing explaining why he was supposed to be there, if Fowler needed to see him, or any-damn-thing else. There was not a fucking thing to explain the message and if he was being honest with himself, it unnerved Gavin. It seemed suspicious as shit. Fowler has never called him in early without a reason, and if they needed to talk, the Captain would just do it when they both got in for the morning. So what the fuck was all this?

Well, too bad he was too fucking tired to really think on it for long. Maybe Gavin should have talked with Connor about it. He didn’t really want to since he was with Hank who was dealing with a gnarly bad depression night and was found in a drunken stupor in his home. But something was telling him to just do it. Just go over there, sort out what to do. He could bring more clarity to the situation. Well, that was the plan, until the bed swallowed him up so much the man couldn’t help but go right the fuck to sleep. He was just being a paranoid git who needed to get his shit together. It was nothing to worry about. He’d find out in the morning.

 ---------------

The precinct was virtually empty and way too fucking quiet for Gavin’s liking. It was that weird time where the night shift officers were still out on their rounds and the day shift officers weren’t in yet. Fowler sure as shit wouldn’t be here this early. So why was _he_ here? He could feel a cold sensation crawl over his skin, making him shudder and glance back in the direction of the main waiting lobby. He could leave. He could leave right the fuck now, and who would be the wiser? This all had to be some sort of mix up, or someone wanted to pull a shit prank on him. Whatever the reason for the message, he wasn’t in the mood to find out, not this early and not without coffee. 

“Fuck this.”

“Ah, so you _did_ come. Sort of figured you might just snooze the whole morning away.”

That voice. The voice of that putrid agent that had Gavin gritting his teeth every time someone even so much as mentioned him. Perkins. What the fuck was he doing here? Whatever it was, wasn’t going to be good. The detective turned to glare at Perkins, and his expression was smug, excited, and there was something like knowing glinting in his eyes. He was up to something. Definitely up to something. He tried to keep his nerves tamped down, keep the anxiety from causing those hallmark tremors in his body. But he couldn’t help but think back to that damn investigation and how much of a fool he made Perkins out to be with that bullshit. Karma was a bitch though. He was the one who wanted Gavin to piss himself on scene, so it serves him right that he was reprimanded for false reporting and breaking crime scene protocols with his damn rules. But now the detective was worried that was going to bite him in the ass, hard. The agent was vindictive enough to make him pay for what he's done to him.

Gavin did his best to appear imposing, a sturdy brick wall. He allowed a sneer to contort his face, arms crossed over his chest. And the laugh that came from Perkins told him the agent knew he was just posturing. Fucking great. Can't be taken seriously by anyone anymore, could he?

“What the fuck are you doing here? Didn’t think we had a joint investigation going with you clowns.”

“No, we don’t. But I was part of a task force tracking a fugitive, and we need to house him here for a while. I’m waiting for back-up and the guy is a loose canon. And before you uh, make any remarks, I don’t give a fuck what your answer is. He’s coming in. I’m pulling rank.”

“Just like a fucking agent, huh? Think you’re better than the rest of us just because you work with the FBI? You’re just fucking bitter because you were on the wrong side of the Revolution and it made you look like a cunt.”

Gavin saw how a vein twitched in Perkins’ neck, and he felt satisfied that he was starting to get a rise out of him. His anxiety was ebbing away by inches, giving him more confidence, the confidence he needed to stand up against this motherfucker. He let that Rookie get under his skin, but he wasn’t going to let that shit slip with Perkins. He wasn’t going to let this bastard grind him into dust. He stood with his head held high, approaching the agent until they were invading each other’s personal space, the tension thick and filled with ill-intent. Gavin didn’t have the forethought to read further into this feeling of foreboding.

“You know, I thought you might actually be…happy about this. Y’see, this bastard has been on the run for a long, long time now. Slippery, not easy to locate. Always slipping through our fingers. But we finally caught him, and I figured hey, I know someone who would want to see him. I mean, the priority level that was placed on him was increased as a favor to you, so…”

Gavin felt all of his confidence freeze in his veins, his heart lurching, mind in an absolute panic. A fugitive, one that had ties to Gavin’s life, slippery. There was no way. No way in fucking hell! He was told the bastard was dead years ago! There’s no way Perkins found him out there, alive. He wasn’t a fugitive, he wasn’t alive. He couldn’t be alive. He’s lived in fear of that monster all of his life, the nightmares relentless. But for all of his fear he at least felt a small measure of safety knowing in his most rational moments he could no longer be hurt by a dead man. But if what Perkins was saying was true, then the door has been blown wide open all over again, the possibilities for future pain endless. He felt his breath stall in his lungs, and he couldn’t keep his breathing evened out. He knew he was starting to lose it, but what good was putting up a front now?

“What th-the fuck are you talking about?!”

“Ooooh, so you didn’t know, huh? Did you honestly think he was dead? _Hope_ he was dead, even? I mean if he was, then you could continue to live in this delusional fantasy world where you’re becoming successful and you matter. But, if he wasn’t dead, he’d remind you just who you really are. What you really are. He’d put you in your place, wittle Gavin. There’d be nowhere to hide, huh?”

Gavin was shaking, seething, boiling over with so much fear and so much anger. He couldn’t reconcile his emotions, couldn’t sort out whether he wanted to run for his life or punch this motherfucker in the mouth. He was bluffing, had to be bluffing. Because the reality the detective would have to face if Perkins was telling the truth was way too unbearable. He wasn’t alive, he wasn’t alive, he just couldn’t be.

“So that’s it, f-fucker? So damn butthurt about getting in trouble you gotta come here and—”

“Ah, ah, sonny. That’s quite enough of that.”

Gavin froze on the spot, eyes blown wide as those words and that voice washed through him and burned him out. It just couldn’t be true, there was no way in fucking hell it was true! But his morbid fascination got the best of him and he turned to face the source of the voice, and he was met by the cruelest pair of green eyes he’s ever had the displeasure of knowing. His father was just as a young Gavin had remembered him; hair a greasy, tangled mess and long to his shoulders, face all sharp angles and gaunt from hunger that was sustained by his drug habit. And those teeth. Those yellow, jagged teeth. Seeing them would have been enough to rankle up the detective’s nose of the fear didn’t have him held captive in his own body. It was his worst nightmare come to life, the very thing he’s hoped and prayed in Connor’s arms in the dead of night to never see again. And here he was, in the flesh, leaving Gavin sick to his stomach.

“There, that’s better. But you know you’re not supposed to speak to your elders like that. If only my hands weren’t tied. I’d remind you what happens to little boys who are bad. And you…you’re as worse as they come.”

Gavin couldn’t help the strangled whimper that forced it’s way passed his lips, shaking legs carrying him backwards before he was trapped by the desk behind him. And his father, one Josiah Reed, was toeing closer to him, and fucking Perkins was letting him. Couldn't the agent see he was in danger? Fuck, his father was going to  _kill him_ this time for crying out loud!

_No, keep him away from me! Please, dad please, I didn’t mean to!_

“Look at you, all grown up. Well, I suppose your body has matured, but you’re still that weak, sniveling little boy I should have just tossed in a dumpster behind some bar. No one would have even found you before you were put in a compactor to be crushed alive. Bet you think you’re all high and mighty now that you’re some ‘important’ detective. Detective Reed. Would have a nice ring to it if you weren’t so damn worthless. Once a failure, always a failure, and don’t think for a second these people can’t see you for what you really are.”

Gavin tried to block out his cruel words, tried to keep the truth that he knew was there in his heart. And yet when faced with his own personal monster in the closet, how could he believe anything but what he says? His father’s words had always been law, always been reality. Maybe this was the world’s way of telling him it was time to face the music and understand that these past few months have all been a lie he told himself to make his life seem  just a little brighter. It was a hallucination, brought on by his desperate need to be loved and wanted. But he couldn’t lie to himself anymore, there was nowhere else to run, nowhere else to hide. It was over.

“Are you—”

Gavin let out a sob, legs going weak, and he slumped helplessly back against the desk. He hadn’t even realized he’d started urinating, the fear opening the floodgates without conscious thought or decision. And the disgust on his father’s face left his body trembling all the more violently.

_Dad, I'm sorry, I can't hold it! Please, oh please don't hit me!_

“Such a disgusting, abhorrent child! You will hold your piss! Stop embarrassing me you filthy vermin!”

“D-Dad—”

Gavin reached a hand into his pants, gripping his gushing, wet cock tightly in an attempt to stem the flow. It worked, but his bladder ached for him to continue his release, the frantic fear making him desperate to void the last of his water. But he knew what disobeying meant, he knew what his father would do. He crossed his legs tightly together, hand and cock jammed tightly between his thighs. And the cackle that ripped from Josiah’s mouth made Gavin shiver, his cries quickly reducing to wails.

“Poor little Gavin, can’t hold in your pee pee. Never could you little brat. You were always embarrassing me. Always making me look bad. You make that Lieutenant look bad, too, you know. How do you think he felt, when you damn near pissed on the floor at that crime scene? Hm? How can you possibly be successful at bringing down criminals and underground enterprises when you can’t hold in a little wee wee? You know, it’s just a matter of time before they stop humoring you. It’ll all come crashing down, just like it always does. Because it’s a dog eat dog world, and you’re just a little runt.”

Gavin fell to his knees, hunching over as the trembles took over his body. He couldn’t stop them, couldn’t contain them, couldn’t contain himself in the face of his father. His urine forced it’s way through his hold, soaking his pants through, pattering on the floor. The disappointed tutting had him recoiling, whimpering. He was six, six and awaiting the feeling of that thick, stiff belt beating harshly across his back. Only this time it wasn’t just a nightmare, it wasn’t just his mind imagining Josiah standing above him. He was really there. It didn’t matter that he was cuffed and couldn’t lay a hand on him. He might as well be capable of causing harm. He didn’t even notice Perkins walking over, a satisfied Cheshire grin tugging up his lips as he jingled the keys to the cuffs in the air. 

_Don't let him touch me! Please, help me! Someone help me!_

“You need to be taught a lesson. You need to remember where your place is in this world; on the fucking bottom of the heap with all of the other animals. It’s where you have always belonged, little Gavin, and where you'll always belong.”


	2. We'll Fight Your Monsters Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin was going to die alone, die under the brutal hand of his father. This was it. This was how it all ended.  
> Unless those frantic prayers he cried to the heavens as a child were finally answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man Perkins, you're in for a world of hurt in Chapter 3  
> Which is just going to be hurt...but to a bastard we all hate ;)  
> I will make an announcement that writing updates after Tue/Wed (my next off days) might be slow...or fast...or I don't know because Hurricane Florence is headed THIS WAY and I have no idea how bad this shit is going to be  
> I'm fucking scared but...I'm prepping and I'll be sure to keep myself safe  
> If any of you are in her path, please be safe, evac if you need to, and BE PREPARED!

Something was off. Hank could feel it in his old, decrepit bones like a bad itch on his back he just couldn’t reach. What the fuck was off, he had no idea. He had a hangover, that was pretty typical. He was doing better about curbing his drinking, but he still had his nights. Connor was with him, probably stayed the night. Not too strange, he would do that on occasion instead of staying with Gavin (especially when he had a drinking binge. Probably a worry that was there to stay). So what the fuck was so—

“Hank.”

Uh oh. First name. That either meant something bad had happened, or he was about to get a little robo lecture. He loved Connor, but damn did that shit get old. He was old enough to make his own decisions, good or bad, damn it. He stumbled out of his bedroom with a disgruntled groan, scratching at his stomach with tired eyes scanning for his son. He wasn’t hard to find with his LED cycling a bright red in distress while pacing up and down the living room, which was almost enough to snap Hank fully awake. That was never a good sign.

“Con? What’s up?”

“I can’t get a hold of Gavin. We were going to grab coffee on the way to the precinct since I spent the night here, but I can’t reach him. He never ignores his phone calls, even when he should.”

Huh, that’s definitely not like Gavin. Gavin was always quick to answer his phone, even when it was inappropriate, and _especially_ if that call was from he or Connor. So for the detective to not answer, something had to be wrong. Wrong, something felt very wrong, his body running cold from the worry.

“Hold on. He sent me a text from…the Captain?”

“Wha’s it say?”

Hank rounded to stand behind Connor, whose expression was concerned, anxious, all pinched lines that conveyed stress. And stress when it came to androids was not, _not_ good. And he could see why. That text on the screen of his cellphone (purchased on his own insistence to be a little more human rather than relying solely on his internal network) was cryptic as hell, too cryptic to be from Fowler who was as straight-forward as they come. That was a trap if he ever saw one, and suddenly he felt his skin crawl and he was making a mad dash for his bedroom.

“Dad--?”

“Connor, we’re going to the precinct, _now_!”

If anyone so much as lay a hand on his boy, there was going to be hell to pay.

 ------------------

Gavin was going to die. His father was going to break him and he would be left somewhere to rot, forgotten. No one would know he’d passed, no one would care enough to mourn his death. There would be a cold nothingness, throwing him into absolute oblivion for which he could never escape from. He curled in on himself tightly, crouched on the floor where he rocked on his feet. He could faintly hear handcuffs rustling, which meant Perkins was making good on his threat to free Josiah. It only forced a keening whine from his throat before the hysterical sobbing ran more out of his control.

_Why are you doing this to me? Please don't! Don't let him hurt me! Oh please, stop!_

“Is this brat always so damn loud?”

“Gavin has always been a weak and putrid maggot. I knew he’d never change. He just needs to remember what shit heap he belongs on.”

“Dad…d-dad please…don’t…d-do—”

“You motherfucker, what are you—”

Two new sets of footsteps, two new people. His father’s friends? More people to hurt him. Gavin couldn’t curl in on himself any more defensively, there was no way to make himself smaller, even if he wanted to. He wanted to shrink into a pinprick, shrink so that maybe his father couldn’t hit him. Foolish, yes, but he was so terrified. Terrified of the whipping stings from the belt that were to come. He was waiting for the pain, from his father, from his friends. There was a crowd of people, all here to watch him fall, all here to watch him suffer. He cried out, names he couldn’t recall on his lips. He screamed these names over and over, begging for help, begging to be saved. But who in this cruel world would save him? There was no one, nothing. He was alone, he—

“Gavin. Love. Ssshhh…”

"NO LET GO! PLEASE DON'T HURT ME!”

Arms had snaked their way around his body, arms that were trapping him, arms that would trap him so that his father could assault him relentlessly. Gavin was going to die, _he was going to die_. He shrieked and writhed in the arms holding him down, his blood rushing so badly in his ears he couldn’t hear a single sound around him. And yet the longer those arms held him, the more his mind starting picking apart the small things that were different from this and the crushing grips that held him down in the past. These arms were warm, tender, and if he focused just long enough, he could feel fingers scratching at the back of his head, the palm resting at his neck, and the skin didn’t feel a thing like skin. It felt like…plastic? Android? There were no androids in his father’s circle, so who--?

Gavin took a hesitant look up through his tears, and he nearly broke out in relieved sobs at who he saw. Connor. His Connor, looking down on him with such love, such kindness, not a hit of cruelty, unlike those acid green eyes he was so used to seeing his whole life. He found himself clinging back tightly, hiding his face against the android’s neck to keep the visage of his father out of his sight. He could bear to look at him a second longer.

“C-Connor…I…I thought it was all a dream…y-you were all a dream…o-oh fuck I--”

Gavin could feel something like a growl vibrating through Connor’s body, his displeasure pretty obvious with how his body tensed. And the detective couldn’t help but reflexively tense as well, a lingering thought that the reaction was towards him and not for him. But his lover was quick to soothe, placing a kiss against his temple to wash away those paranoid thoughts before they took growth. Synthetic muscles uncoiled, tension bleeding away to be the grounding presence he so desperately needed, those dark thoughts still swirling like a mess in his head.

“Nothing that monster has told you is true, Gav. I’m here. Dad’s here. Fowler’s here—Captain?”

And suddenly the office space was much more crowded than Gavin remembered it being. Connor and Hank had joined the fray, and now coming in behind them was fucking Fowler, Chris, and Tina. And they all looked like rabid dogs, ready to pounce. And they were all coming in on his behalf,  planting themselves like a wall between he and both his father and that asshat Perkins, thankfully blocking his view. And fuck he was astounded, the crying morphing into something different, something strange, something…happy. The tentative smile and happy sobs weren’t lost on Connor, who gave an approving and low hum. The heavens have never answered his pleas, he's always been left to suffer the abuse on his own, never saved. God but they were being answered in a big fucking way now. What the hell did he do to deserve all of this?

“You’re not the man you used to be, and you are not your past. We’re here, we’re not backing down, and we’re not abandoning you. You mean so much to me, to _us_. We’re…family, Gavin, and that man can never take your family away from you again.”

Gavin never thought he’d know what love--true familial love--would ever feel like. But funnily enough, it’s when he finally sees his father again, the one who stripped him of everything, that he learns just how loved he is. And wasn’t that just fucking something?

\----------------------

Hank only had an active imagination (though he wasn’t very imaginative) to come up with what Gavin’s father looked like, but it definitely wasn’t like this. The guy was all skin and bones, green eyes acidic and filled with nothing but disdain and hatred. Even when Gavin was a fucking prick, now that he thought on it, there was something haunting about his eyes, something sad and lonely. He saw no remorse, no regret, no softness in that ugly sea of green. There was just venom and ill-intent, a sneer curled around yellow teeth rotted by drugs. He was a filthy monster, and it was no wonder the detective had nightmares about the man who was supposed to love and protect him. He was putrid, disgusting, and he just wanted to fucking knock his ass to the floor.

“Well, well, if it isn’t ‘daddy dearest’. You can’t possibly find anything redeemable in this spineless little vermin. Why don't you give up the lie and just admit it to yourself.”

“Oh I agree, but I ain’t thinking about Gav. I’m thinking about you.”

Hank planted his feet firmly, standing between Gavin and his father, Josiah, who made to move forward. And that sneer quickly turned into a frown, his displeasure practically radiating off of him in waves. Fucker was still trying to take control of his son even when they were all here. So that was it. He's a control freak. Things have to go his way, people's minds bending to his conception of reality. It's probably how he's managed to stay on the run for so long. He was an emotional manipulator. Yeah, well he wasn't playing none of that shit.

“What is so worthy about him? He’s been a failure all of his life. Always disappointing me, embarrassing me. He nearly pisses himself on a crime scene and you defend him. Look at him! He’s pissed himself like a child! How are you not ashamed?!”

Hank glanced behind him, saw the way that Gavin flinched at the remark, and his heart sank and filled with sadness and rage. To speculate was one thing, but to hear and feel the full brunt of those cruel words with the only intention of hurting? He could see the dark looks on his colleagues' faces, the realization hitting them at just about the same time as it hit him. It’s no wonder the detective had been so angry, so bitter, treating them all like monsters to drive away. Because if this is the only social interaction you had on a daily basis consistently throughout his childhood, being dragged through the fucking mud, treated like trash, anyone would want to keep everyone else away for fear of that abuse being turned back on you all over again. He turned now, kneeling in front of Gavin and Connor before putting a firm hand on his son’s shoulder, nothing but love and fondness on his face, which seemed to soothe the distraught man, easing the trembles down just a little more.

“Because Gavin is one of the best detectives and a man far stronger than you ever gave him credit for. Sure, he has his moments of weakness, but we all do. We all deserve to falter a bit…”

“How disgusting. For you to be so blind makes me sick...and makes me feel just a little bad for you for being so foolish.”

Hank shot to his feet again, a snarl escaping through his lips. His temper restraint was always on a thin wire, and that wire finally fucking snapped.

“You piece of shit!”

That’s fucking it. It had to be done. Hank reeled back and slammed his fist into Josiah’s jaw, the man recoiling back at the impact. He slammed back into Perkins, nearly knocking the two off of their feet. Fuck his knuckles hurt, but that was so satisfying, even as Fowler came up behind him and pulled him back behind him. Yeah, he knew a lecture was probably coming. He couldn't assault a suspect no matter how despicable they were, yadda yadda. But fuck, someone needed to do it!

“Enough, Hank! Perkins!”

Hank could see the color starting to bleed from the Agent’s face, and damn that was just as satisfying as giving Josiah what for. He knew why Gavin was called here now, knows that it was some ploy to tear him apart for making Perkins look like an ass to the FBI. He was willing to bet all of his meager savings the bastard was hinging on the DPD agreeing with him and Josiah, that Gavin wasn’t worth their time, wasn’t worth their protection. But he made an error in judgement, a grievous one. He’d hinged his career on this theory that he could tear apart the detective for what he’s done without consequence, and he just fucking lost. And man did it feel fucking good.

“I may not be clear on the FBI’s protocols and proceedings, but I know for a damn fact that exposing an abuse victim to their abuser in such a manner is against everything law enforcement should stand for. You caused unnecessary distress and harm. What would your superiors think? Hm?”

Hank couldn’t help but grin when Fowler stepped away, phone in hand, all intention of making that call. That was it. It would be over for Perkins. Strike three on his list of failures. Not like the FBI needed a vindictive fuck up on their force, anyways. He could see a small spark of panic coming to the Agent’s eyes, his expression still schooled into a neutral expression as an attempt to maintain control of a situation he lost control of long ago.

“Captain, lets not be rash about—”

“I’ve had enough, Agent Perkins! You will be reported for your actions! Now take this bastard to the holding cells and you better stand watch until transport gets here!”

Hank had to hold back a laugh at the dejection and defeat that came to Perkins' face. He grabbed at Josiah’s arm, but the motherfucker jerked away. His face was red with anger, leveling a glare at Gavin, who had his face tucked against Connor’s neck to hide his eyes from the man, body now hunching once more as it to keep away from his father's lashing tirade.

“Fuck no! How can you not see it?! How can you not see he deserves to rot in a ditch?! Throw him away! He shames this department just by being a part of it! Is this what the DPD has been reduced to? Scraping _below_ the barrel to find detectives?”

Hank made to retort, but good ol’ Chris and Tina stepped forward now, and the three of them together was imposing enough to make Josiah step back. Even he knew he couldn’t win a fight against the three of them, especially with his hands still cuffed behind his back. Good, let the fucker lose his footing. He lost it the second he decided to fuck with Gavin without realizing he had people to back him up.

“You know what man? Lay off. Gavin, he…might be a bit prickly and might not be perfect, but none of us are. He’s earned his place here.”

“Yeah. I mean he’s always been decent with me, even before we learned why he was the way he was. He’s not the monster, you are. I’ll stand up for him any day! We all would.”

Hank could feel pride bubbling within him at their words of support. He remembered not too long ago they started to doubt his recovery, his sincerity. Now they were ready and willing to support Gavin, to protect him, to embrace him with their love. It made all of the heartache, all of the struggling worth it. Josiah had no power anymore. The fear would always course through his son’s veins, but his father no longer had power over him. Perkins took Josiah by the arm once more, and with a bit of struggling he was led away to one of the cells to start his new career as a criminal behind bars, right where he belonged.

 ----------------------

It was over? Gavin could hardly fucking believe it. He watched as his father was led away to the holding cells, and here he was, still alive. He wasn't flayed to death, wasn’t ground into dust, wasn’t left to rot on the side of the road. He had been protected from his assault and cruel words, and the warmth and love he felt was almost more than he could stand.

“He’s gone, Gav. He’s gone. He’s not going to hurt you ever again.

“He’s…gone…”

Gavin couldn’t keep the hysterical laugh from bursting from his mouth, a relieved smile so wide pulling at his lips that it made his face ache. It felt freeing, knowing once and for all his father wouldn’t be able to lay a hand on him again. Even when he believed him dead, he’d never found an obituary, never found where he was laid to rest, and it always left the possibility of him coming around open. Now, there was resolution, an end to the chapter in his life, made final by watching his back disappear behind the wall. He prayed and prayed to the heavens as a child for a guardian angel. For someone to free him, to rescue him from the pain. It was a prayer he thought would never be answered, but now it's been answered in the biggest way by his newfound family.

"Hey kiddo, how're you holding up?"

Gavin looked up to see Hank crouching in front of him, that gentle had on his shoulder, grounding him, and the last bit of tension that kept his muscles rigid finally eased away. He was exhausted. Fuck he just woke up and he was already so fucking tired. His eyelids drooped, fluttering back open to look at the other three officers of the department standing behind his dad, warm smiles on their faces. How did he come to deserve this? All of this fucking love and adoration?

"'M sleepy..."

"Hank, take him home. Connor can go home, too. Just...take care of him, alright? We'll take care of this bastard until transport gets here."

"Welp, you heard the Captain. A nice bath and a blanket nest on the couch sounds like a good day to me."

Gavin hummed with approval, feeling Connor shift beneath him until the android was able to get a good grip and lift him up off the ground. If it had been months ago, he would have been ashamed to be seen carried in such a way. Now, all he could find himself doing was relishing the warmth and comfort as his lover whispered sweet words in his ear. If suffering years of tyranny under that monster of a man is what it took for him to feel what it meant to beloved, then maybe, just maybe, it was worth every second of pain to never have to feel that way again.


	3. Didn't Anyone Tell You the Villain Always Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Perkins, his life was about his career, and he had always been held in high esteem  
> That was until the revolution, and until a deep growing disgust bubbled forth for one Gavin Reed  
> When he's finally taken it too far, he's left with nothing but his shame and failure, and forced to stand watch over a man who was all too willing to snap that last bit of humanity he had left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE'S THE END  
> ...and a set up for things to come  
> Thank you everyone who has followed me through this  
> I've loved all of your support and kindness!!!  
> I will be starting series 2 soon, and I hope you'll like it just as much as it's very much a branch off and continuation of this one

How had he fallen so far? Perkins could recall a time when he was the most reliable and successful agent in his department of the FBI. All of his fellow agents came to him for advice, came to him when they were stuck on a case or needed a criminal profile overviewed for accuracy. There was no one he couldn’t catch, there wasn’t a soul in the world who could hide from his expert tracking. But then the revolution began, and when he was called in, he saw it as the case of a lifetime. How could he pass up an opportunity to rein in the chaos? It was the opportunity of a lifetime. That was before he knew better than to stand against public opinion, that was before he knew how much of a fucking mistake it was to allow the open fire orders to carry out with the damn press and the whole world watching with bated breath. That was before he realized just how dedicated Markus was to his passive revolution, not once provoking the authorities, not once laying a hand on a single human. Strike one.

Then there was Gavin Reed. Possibly one of the worst men he’s ever had the displeasure of meeting. He was a detective of some respectable caliber, and yet as a man he wasn’t worthy of carrying his badge. He was weak, the weakness radiating off of him in waves that were impossible to miss for a an eye as sharp as Perkins'. His profile was easy to draw up in his head. Abused as a child, it made him a man with many insecurities and emotional damage to match. He was a loose canon, and such a man had no place in the world of law enforcement. What was he bringing to the table than his own baggage? Well, that was easily fixed by bringing him down a peg. So he used his authority and made the case he was forced to work with jointly with the DPD a little more interesting. He however hadn’t banked on that damn lieutenant being protective of him, caring about him, and helping him with his shameful little problem. It resulted in Perkins being reported for improper procedure and receiving his final warning. Strike two.

And now this. It took weeks to finally find Josiah Reed, a man who has been on their wanted lists for years now. He was slippery and knew how to con and manipulate anyone he came into contact with. He was finally found holed up in some slummy apartment building, squatting, getting high off his ass on Red Ice like he's done all his adult life. Turns out he's even made a career in making and distributing the stuff. And wouldn’t it just be the perfect weapon to exact revenge on that bastard who made a mockery of him to his entire department? He was practically giddy with the thought of seeing that fucker cower in fear, his father lording over him. And if the DPD could finally see the kind of man he really was in the face of his monster in the closet, they would come around to his own assertions of the man. How mistaken he was. Because when he was just about to unleash Josiah on his son, in came Hank and Connor, followed by two other officers and the Captain. And they came to Gavin’s defense. Here was this speck of a man, crouched over in fear, drenched in his own piss, and these shameful officers defended him. It was then that he finally started to realize it was over for him in a slow, dawning horror. All of his hard work in the federal system, and he was left with a goose egg. Strike three. He was out. It was all fucking over.

So now here he was, standing watch over Josiah Reed until transport could get here to remove the man from the precinct, and at the same time awaiting his own inevitable downfall and walk of shame. Perkins tried to brainstorm any excuse he could think of, anything that could save his career from the jaws of death. There was nothing, not a damn thing he could do, nothing he could say that would prove him redeemable. Because to claim any of the reasons that remotely indicated some sort of temporary insanity due to stress (about the only line of reasoning that would spare him from being outright fired) would disqualify him from serving on the force due to an inability to meet the demands of his job. There was no saving his career, no matter what he did. All of his hard work, so many long years, sacrificing a social life, family, and for what?

“Oh what’s the matter? Sad that your little plan didn’t turn out how you wanted it to?”

Perkins snarled, glancing behind him at Josiah, who was pressed against the glass and trying to get far too close to him. Fucking bastard. He regrets even entertaining Captain Fowler’s request to bump his position on the wanted list. He shouldn’t have gone after the fucker personally. He should have let this shit go. But his vindictive streak just wouldn’t let him. No one made a fool out of him, and no one sure as hell got away with such a thing. Oh he planned on delighting in the look of fear on Reed's face when confronted by his demons and watching him fall, fall like he has. And what the fuck did he get for all of his sick planning and effort?

“Why don’t you exercise your right to remain silent, hm?”

“And miss all the fun? Not a chance sunshine. See, that’s what happens to cocky fools like you. Fly too close to the sun and let yourself get burned.”

What would this bastard know? What did anyone fucking know? Everything he had done as an agent before the damn revolution was hailed as heroic and life-saving. He was respected, renowned. He was a star that couldn’t fall. How could he fall like this when there were others far more deserving of failure? Perkins’ body was tense, mind reeling and seething in this hatred that was burning hotter and hotter. But there was something else his muscles were tensing and reacting to that had nothing to do with the emotions boiling closer and closer to the surface. He’s spent the whole morning standing watch over Josiah, and the cup of coffee he had this morning before arriving was demanding to be let out. Which was fucking great and not something he felt like dealing with. His biological needs were the least of his worries in the face of his ruin.

That is, until it started becoming his sole worry. It’s been three hours since he arrived at the precinct and his need was becoming quite urgent. There was a pinching pain in his bladder, a burning ache in his cock as he held back the tide of urine expanding the organ low in his belly. He’s always been able to wait as long as he’s needed to, always been able to hold off for his current case. But what was he holding off for? There was no incentive for Perkins to hold himself to a higher standard, to keep up appearances when there was no longer one to keep. So what did it matter if he stepped away for a moment? It was just a moment, it wasn’t like Josiah could leave the cell anyways. He was likely only asked to stand watched to get him out of everyone’s hair. So, decision made, the agent adjusted his coat and stepped away from the cell, heading for the hall to the bathroom. That was until he was snagged by the arm, and his eyes met with Captain Fowler’s, and those eyes left zero room for argument.

“Where do you think you’re going, Perkins?”

“Excusing myself for a minute. Not that it’s any of your business, sir.”

“Yeah, well transport will be here soon, and I want eyes on that bastard until he leaves. So get your ass back over there before things get even nastier for you, you hear me?”

Nastier, as if that were possible. Perkins almost barked a mocking laugh at such a laughable statement, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He simply didn’t have the energy, didn’t have the fight left within him. He resigned himself to his fate and walked stiff legged back to the holding cells, teeth grit together tightly. He had no choice but to wait, although his body was telling him pretty urgently that he simply couldn’t. But he would wait, like he’s done many times before, one of them being the attack on Jericho (he shuddered at the thought of that night). He could and would wait however long was expected of him, for the sake of what little dignity he had left to hold on to. Maybe it was also out of spite. He wasn't going to give the DPD the satisfaction of a sick little show.

But transport arriving 'soon' wasn’t soon enough. Perkins could feel how heavy the organ was sitting in his belly, and fuck did he want to sit down. He crossed his legs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat before letting a harsh breath blow out through teeth clenching so tightly together they hurt. It was becoming so difficult to hold, and he couldn’t help but step uneasily on his feet, squeezing his thighs together tightly as he shifted uneasily from foot to foot in a steady alternation. He had to keep himself composed. He had to keep himself restrained. He would not shame himself here, he absolutely would not!

“Well, well, how the tables have turned.”

Perkins could feel his skin crawling, flesh feeling far too tight and far too hot under his heavy coat. He was trying to be subtle, but it was growing beyond his capability. Oh he needed to piss so damn bad. He couldn’t help but reach a hand into his coat, cupping his crotch tightly before crossing his legs, bending forward ever so slightly, so weighed down by his burden. His face was red with anger and embarrassment, eyes sliding over his shoulder to see those venomous green eyes now training their predatory gaze on him now. Just what he needed, more attention. He could see why Hank wanted to clock his fucking lights out.

“Maybe you aren’t so different from Gavin. You put yourself on this pedestal, but I see the truth. You’re insecure, need to be validated, need to be important. Maybe you were just some plain Jane as a boy and you wanted to be idolized. You could never achieve that, until now. But you can only lie to yourself for so long. Look at you. So pitiful. And you thought yourself better than that whelp of a man. How wrong you were.”

The audacity of this bastard! Profiling him! Perkins released himself, snarling as he faced the glass wall. Oh he was so close to leaking, but he wasn’t going to let Josiah have the satisfaction of knowing that. He couldn't stop the shudder that rolled through his body, urine forcing it's way to the tip of his cock. Fuck his eyes were watering, weren't they?

“You’re just grasping at straws for control you don’t fucking have you prick. Give it up already. You’re finished.”

“And so are you…”

 

Perkins made to retort, but his phone went off in his pocket, and thank fucking god, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand this. And sure enough, transport was here. Just a little longer and he could be away with this bastard. Then he needed to make a mad dash to the nearest convenient bathroom, since apparently the one here was off limits. He wasn’t about to test his luck in the precinct any longer than he needed to be here after Fowler made it abundantly clear he wasn’t wanted. There was a convenience store down the road. He just had to make it there, just hold it a little longer.

“Well, that would be your ride. There’s a bed waiting for you down at county.”

Perkins placed his hand on the lock panel, making his way on stiff legs into the cell. He had to keep his cock pressed tightly between his thighs.. And that smug bastard was now standing in the corner of the cell, sizing him up, eyeing him like some prey that he’s successfully captured. He didn’t have time for this. He kept his expression schooled but he was on the frantic edge of soaking his pants. He could feel urine seeping into his underwear, groin wet and hot. He needed to go, and he needed to go now. Just a little longer, almost there.

“Well, come and collect me, then.”

Perkins bit against his tongue, fighting down a moan as another jet of urine soaked into his underwear. He was thankful for the black pants, but that wouldn’t hide a puddle if he were to lose control now. He stepped forward. One step. Two. Then suddenly his breath was taken away as Josiah lurched forward, and somehow that fucker managed to free himself of his restraints. A swift jab of the man’s knee contacted with his bladder, winding the agent, and what happened next was inevitable. Suddenly his urine flooded out of his body, soaking his pants, splashing all over the floor below. The sound echoed through the small room, echoed horrifically in his head. For all of his efforts, for all of his restraints, he couldn’t even manage this. He couldn’t hold his own water. And it made him feel so small, especially now that he was crouched over with Josiah looming tall over him.

“Uh oh…looks like wittle Mr. Agent had an accident…you know what happens to bad boys who can’t restrain themselves, right?”

Perkins didn’t have the time to answer. He was forced face down on the floor now, mind numb and reeling in confusion. He didn’t have enough awareness to realize his belt was being ripped off hastily through his belt loops. He was empty and pliant, laying on the floor with bleary eyes looking up at the man who had malicious intent in his eyes. And moments later before he could register just what was to come, his own belt was being used against him, coming down in brutal beating whips. Even through his thick coat he could feel the bruises starting to form, a testament to the strength of a man fueled by drugs and bitterness. He couldn’t help but curl up in defense against the blows, using his arms to cover his head.

Cackles echoed through the small room, and Perkins couldn’t remember a time when he felt smaller. But in that emptiness, in that numbness mixed with the aching bruises, a rage was brewing inside of his heart, a rage for the man who was to blame for all of this. It was his fault, all his damn fault. Gavin Reed. That name echoed in his head all the while the belt beat against his body, every ache and pain further fueling his rage. His fault, his fault, his—

“Restrain him!”

Footsteps entered the small cell, the two officers from earlier coming in to force Josiah to the wall so that he could be cuffed again. Perkins was quick to get himself to his feet, trying his best to cover himself up with his coat, to hide his shame. But was there really any way to do that when the puddle on the floor obviously called him out and what he's done? And after restraining Gavin's father, that was the second thing that they noticed, and they both cringed and glared at the agent with such disdain. Fuck he had a wetness at his eyes. He couldn't keep the tears from making small, hot tracks down his face. They didn't need to stare like that the bastards.

"Do you have him? Or do we need to do this for you, too?"

Perkins couldn't even sharpen his tongue enough to quip back, taking Josiah roughly by the arm before exiting the cell. And he couldn't help but notice on his way out that everyone in the department was staring him down on his way out. Oh they thought they were superior to him now, did they? Thought they were infallible, just. He couldn't help but let his hatred harden his heart further, glancing in the direction of Gavin's desk. Well, if he had nothing else left to lose, then maybe there was something he could do to tear that putrid worm apart piece by piece once and for all.


End file.
